


Better Late

by mindabbles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 08:10:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2302670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindabbles/pseuds/mindabbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is miserable at his birthday party. So miserable, in fact, that he briefly considers leaving to take care of drunk teenagers, as the only better option available. That is, until something infinitely preferable presents its, or rather his, self.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Late

**Author's Note:**

> A most happy belated birthday to my very dear [](http://elizassecret.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://elizassecret.livejournal.com/)**elizassecret**. I hope you enjoy your prezzie. Sorry it's so late. ♥

**Title:** Better Late  
 **Pairing/Characters:** Harry/Draco  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word Count:** ~7000  
 **Warnings:** Well, what do you think happened after [](http://elizassecret.livejournal.com/profile)[**elizassecret**](http://elizassecret.livejournal.com/) made a snarky comment about me writing rimming? There're other sexual activities as well, but that's the one I thought might not be a given by the rating.  
 **Disclaimer:** Harry and Draco, and pretty much everything else except the sex belong to JKR.  
 **Summary:** Harry is miserable at his birthday party. So miserable, in fact, that he briefly considers leaving to take care of drunk teenagers, as the only better option available. That is, until something infinitely preferable presents its, or rather his, self.  
 **Notes:** A most happy belated birthday to my very dear [](http://elizassecret.livejournal.com/profile)[**elizassecret**](http://elizassecret.livejournal.com/). I hope you enjoy your prezzie. Sorry it's so late. ♥

Thank you so very much to [](http://red-squared.livejournal.com/profile)[**red_squared**](http://red-squared.livejournal.com/) for the creative, thorough and speedy beta. And to [](http://duck-or-rabbit.livejournal.com/profile)[**duck_or_rabbit**](http://duck-or-rabbit.livejournal.com/) for lovely feedback and encouragement. ♥ to you two, as well.

 

  
**31st July, 2021**

He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be anywhere other than here, but leaving one's own birthday party seemed a gesture more suited to a teenager than a man who was, as of today, forty-one. Harry glanced at the door to the Three Broomsticks and imagined himself slipping out unnoticed.

"Blimey, Harry," Ron slurred in his ear. He flumped onto the bench seat next to Harry and flung a sloppy arm around him. "You look as if your best mate'd died and I am right here and bloody brilliant, so I know that's not it."

"I'm fine," Harry said. "Is that Hugo with a Firewhisky?" he added, hoping to waylay any attempts at overly sincere advice from a pissed Ron.

"Bloody George," Ron merely shrugged. "Harry. _Mate_ ," Ron said, fixing Harry with a look of genuine concern that made his stomach squirm. "Please tell me you're _not_ sitting and moping at your birthday because fucking Malfoy's a git."

"Can we please not have this conversation?" Harry said, letting his head fall back onto the wall behind him with a satisfying _thunk_.

*~*~*

**14th May, 2021**

Harry ran his fingers over the cool, dark wood of the table. This was the longest meeting he had ever attended in his life. Why they insisted on scheduling the Hogwarts Board of Governor's meetings to run through tea time, he would never know. He traced the swirling grains in the shining surface of the table. They went on and on and if you looked at them long enough, they almost seemed to move. Draco's hand, strong and elegant, lay on the table, his neatly manicured fingers curved against the dark wood.

"Mr. Potter?"

Nearly everyone at the table was at least a hundred years older than Harry. Except Draco.

Draco was wearing that grey robe, with his hair pulled back in a bunch at the nape of his neck. Lately they'd taken to chatting after meetings, and Draco occasionally smiled in ways that were neither smug nor superior, and Harry was finding him very difficult to hate. When he swept his hair back like that, you could see that the skin on the back of his neck was a shade paler yet than the rest.

"Mr. Potter?"

Preston Periwinkle, supercilious and puffed-up, was at the head of the table, staring pop-eyed in Harry's direction.

"Mr. Potter," he spluttered again. Harry always pictured him with a gavel and shouting _Off with their heads!_. Periwinkle would be unbearably pleased if someone actually let him have a gavel. "Mr. Potter, the vote is to you."

Harry bit his lip and searched his subconscious for any hint of the topic about which he was supposed to cast a vote. Draco smirked and Harry realised he'd lost track of the meeting once again. This was all Draco's bloody fault anyway. He took every opportunity to goad Harry during these meetings, and it didn't help that he looked bloody good enough to eat doing it.

"Any issue important enough to come before us deserves considered debate," Harry said, slowly.

Draco raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow and Harry braced himself.

"Mr. Potter is absolutely correct. I propose a short break. And then we can reconvene for the vote after we've all had some air," Draco said.

Harry was stunned.

Periwinkle slapped the table and blustered for a moment before saying, "Very well. Ten minutes, everyone."

Harry was the first outside. The room had become close and stuffy and he breathed a sigh of relief as the fresh air hit his face. It wasn't much cooler outside, the heavy feel of a thunderstorm soon to come, but at least it didn't smell of Periwinkle and company.

"You seem rather more dysfunctional than usual this evening, Potter."

Draco's voice was smooth and cool. A breeze swept through the courtyard, catching a strand of Draco's hair and fluttering it across his lips, the almost-silver contrasting sharply with deep pink.

"You—why did you do that?" Harry asked.

"It was painful, Potter," Draco said, his eyes dancing with glee. "I couldn't let you continue to flop about like a Flobberworm over whether or not the new wing of the school library should be named in Severus Snape's honour."

"Oh," Harry said. He opened his mouth to retort. His heart was beating and his stomach clenching as if he were about to duel. "Here, don't you think that after the sacrifices Severus Snape made, it should be something grander than a few volumes of potions texts?"

Draco's gaze swept Harry and it warmed him right through. "Grand gestures. Those suit you more than Severus, I daresay. But the sentiment is noble."

"You still haven't said _why_ you helped me out in there."

"I saw you watching me, Potter."

"But that means _you_ were watching _me_ ," Harry said. Draco's cheeks flushed and Harry saw his bravado falter for a moment. "And that's not the first time you've been watching me."

Draco titled his head and pursed his lips. His grey eyes flashed as Harry stepped in close. Harry hesitated, his mouth inches from Draco's, almost but not quite kissing that smirking mouth that had tormented him for months.

"Do you need further assistance, Potter?" Draco whispered.

Harry's pulse raced as he leaned forward, sighing when Draco ducked his head to meet him and traced Harry's bottom lip with his tongue. Draco's heart was beating hard too, under Harry's fingers, where he clutched Draco's robe. But having his hand there meant that Harry couldn't get in as close as he wanted, so he slid it down the front of Draco's robes and around to the small of his back, fingers splayed, anchoring Draco there, against his body.

Draco's hands came to rest on Harry's waist and he slid his tongue along Harry's. When Draco began to pull away, Harry tried to chase him, continue to kiss, but Draco gave a small, breathy laugh and he leaned further back.

"That was interesting," Draco said, attempting to look cool. His pink cheeks gave away that he was as flustered as Harry.

"Have dinner with me," Harry blurted out. "Saturday. Eight. I'll come and collect you."

"I don't need collecting, Potter," Draco said in his haughty drawl. "Meet me in front of Flourish and Blott's. I'll pick the restaurant."

 

*~*~*

**31st July, 2021**

"You knew how he was a month ago. You knew he was a prick years ago," Ron said, shaking his head.

Harry scanned the pub. All these people were here for him. They were drinking and laughing and having a bloody good time. Not one of them looked as if they'd be coming over to interrupt this conversation.

"People change," Harry sighed.

"Apparently not," Ron huffed indignantly. "He's behaving a right arse."

Harry took a gulp of his drink and suppressed a cough at the welcome burn of the whisky. "How do you know that I'm not the one who was an arse?"

"Well, you _can_ be an arse, that's certain," Ron said, raising an eyebrow at Harry. "It just seems that, comparatively, Malfoy has a lot more potential. You know?"

Harry laughed.

*~*~*

**17th May, 2021**

The dark red robe was of fine wool, silky to the touch. But then maybe he was getting ahead of himself worrying about what Draco's fingers might encounter. He ran his hand along the sleeve of the green, less expensive one. Ginny had always liked him in green.

"Go for the blue," Ron said, gesturing vaguely at Harry's wardrobe. "Neutral colour. Besides, brings out your eyes."

Laughter burst from Harry. "Did you just say it brings out my eyes?" He eyed Ron incredulously, whose face had become nearly as vibrant a shade as his hair.

"Shut it," Ron grumbled.

Harry shook with laughter as he pulled on the deep blue robe. Looking in the mirror, he decided that Ron was absolutely right. He worked his fingers through his hair, trying to cultivate the carelessly dishevelled look that Stan had managed at the hair salon earlier. When Harry did it, he just looked messy. He grabbed his comb and pushed down the feeling that he was ridiculously old to be getting ready for a date and fussing about with hair that never behaved anyway.

"Harry—" Ron started and then shut his mouth so quickly that Harry would swear he heard a _smack_.

"What?" he asked, turning from the mirror and bracing for a speech about how he couldn't possibly go to dinner with Malfoy.

"You look—" Ron said and Harry had the impression that Ron might burst a blood vessel. Ron swallowed. "You look very nice..."

"But?" Harry asked, chuckling.

"But, I cannot believe you're going to all this effort for bleedin' Malfoy," Ron huffed.

" _I_ cannot believe you've told me both that blue brings out my eyes and that I look _very nice_."

"Fine," Ron snapped. "You look like an idiot and you've gone completely mental."

Harry laughed and mumbled, "Thanks, mate." The nerves that had him wound in knots had eased and he turned away from the mirror. He and Ron had time for a Butterbeer before he left to meet Draco.

*~*~*

**31st July, 2021**

Ron shook his head and frowned. "I'd like to hex the little shit blue for ruining your birthday."

"I am really not in the mood to talk about this," Harry said, more firmly. "If you keep on, you'll be the one ruining my birthday."

Ron shrugged again. "What happened anyway?"

Harry raised his glass and took another long drink. "It's difficult to explain," Harry said, rubbing his hand over his hair. It still never lay flat at the back. "I'm not entirely certain myself."

*~*~*

**17th May, 2021**

Harry had lived in wizard society for thirty years and somehow Draco had managed to find a restaurant that Harry didn't know. _Vetus Via_ clearly still had regard for the Malfoy name, and they were granted a pleasant greeting and a private corner table.

The food was like nothing Harry had ever eaten. Although, he supposed, Draco's presence – to say nothing of the way the low candle light reflected in Draco's eyes, or the way the wine stained his lips dark red — was the best possible accompaniment to the delicious food.

"Can I offer you gentlemen something from our dessert selection?" Catriona, the witch who was serving them, asked. Harry was certain her uniform robe cost more than the one he was wearing and he wondered how she managed to look as tidy and relaxed as if she were dining here instead of working here. She looked them over quickly and smiled. "If I might suggest, the white chocolate mousse with raspberries. Very romantic."

"Thank you, yes," Draco said, a sly smile curving his lips. He turned to Harry, pale eyelashes catching the low light and murmured, "Orgasm in a goblet."

Harry reached for his water as his throat constricted. He felt his cheeks warm and Draco looked rather pleased with himself.

"So, Potter," Draco said, smooth as silk. "You were in the middle of telling me about how your daughter is making herself an annoyance to the current staff at Hogwarts."

"Funny, isn't it?" Harry asked. "For years all you want is a rest from the little blighters, but go out with another person who is a parent and all you do is talk about the kids."

Draco laughed, rich and soft, and Harry felt it warm like brandy in his stomach. "We haven't spoken to each other about the children since Scorpius' second year. I wanted to murder both of them. And you."

"Hey, Albus did what any twelve year-old would do," Harry protested. "That's all I was saying at the time."

"Any twelve year-old Gryffindor," Draco muttered.

Harry's smile was so broad his cheeks ached. "It's nice. Talking. About the kids—or anything. With you, I mean. It's nice talking with you." Harry felt colour rise to his cheeks.

"I know what you meant, Potter," Draco said.

Harry couldn't take his eyes off of Draco's lips, turned up in a slight smile. He could look at Draco forever; the curve of his elegant throat, the hollow between his collar bones, the place where his hair was swept off his neck, all looked as if they'd feel warm and smooth to Harry's lips.

"Excuse me, gentlemen." Catriona's tentative interruption pulled Harry from his musings. "Your desserts."

She placed a tall, slim flute in front of each of them. The mousse was whiter than snow and it was layered with a sauce of the brightest red. Harry could picture how that sauce would look on Draco's lips and he licked his own.

"Look good?" Draco asked, his voice rich with amusement.

"Delicious," Harry answered, eyes on Draco's.

"Wait until you taste it," Draco purred, dipping his spoon into the ruby pool of sauce at the top of his glass. Harry knocked over his dessert, catching it just before it tipped onto the ivory linen table cloth. "Careful, Potter. That would have been a pity."

Harry took a bite, more for something to do with his mouth than because he actually wanted the mousse at this point. A burst of bright, tart raspberry exploded on his tongue, immediately softened by the cool, sweet white chocolate. It was rich and light at the same time. He'd never tasted anything remotely like it.

"Mmmm," Harry moaned softly, his eyes drifting shut for a moment. "That's really nice."

"You have raspberry on your chin," Draco whispered, staring intently at Harry's blissful expression.

Draco reached out and cupped Harry's jaw, running his thumb over Harry's chin. He pulled back, a dollop of red on the tip of his thumb, and sucked it into his mouth.

"Let's get out of here," Harry croaked.

"My place?" Draco suggested, still in that sultry whisper.

"No, my place. The kids are at the Burrow," Harry said, firmly. "And get the mousse to go."

*~*~*

**31st July, 2021**

For two and a half months, Harry had felt like his life was split in two. There was work and spending time with the children when they were home on their summer holidays — his normal life, which was not half-bad by anyone's call. Then there were the evenings and nights with Draco—a surreal bubble of fabulous food and even better sex that were about as far from his normal life as he could get.

Harry nearly slipped from his seat when Ron elbowed him. Hard.

"Ow," he yelped. "What the hell was that for?"

"Hermione," Ron said, as Hermione wove her way through the pub toward them, a determined look on her face. "And _she's worried_ about you."

Harry raised his glass and gulped down a healthy measure of whisky.

"Happy birthday, Harry," she said, pulling him into a quick, one-armed hug. "You look as if you'd rather be anywhere else. I'm sorry for that. If you'd rather just go, we'll make your excuses."

"Thanks," Harry said, feeling both gratitude for her simple, kind words and that uncomfortable slide to falling apart that happens when someone who cares for you shows kindness. "Thanks, Hermione."

"Blimey, how do you do that?" Ron asked, shaking his head at her. "Walks right over and says the right flippin' thing when I've been making an arse of it all night."

Hermione smiled, but her concentration was elsewhere, her expression pinched. "Hugo needs to be taken home."

"Bloody George," Ron grumbled. "I'll wring both their necks."

Ron started to get up and Harry scrambled for any reason he should be the one to take his nephew home. He could take all the kids—who by the sound of it had sneaked a few more nips than the couple George had given them—to his place. Pour pumpkin juice down their throats, let them camp out in the front room, and be ready with the Pepper Up Potion in the morning. That way he wouldn't have to wake up alone.

"George gave them each a small tumbler for the toast," Hermione said. "Albus nicked a bottle off the bar when Rosmerta wasn't looking and they've polished it off amongst them. Idiots. Hugo's just the worst off." She brushed her hair back from her face and rolled her eyes. "Sit down, Ron. I'll take them. You stay here with Harry."

She marched over to the corner table where the kids were giggling and talking loudly, thinking they'd pulled one over on their parents. But being so, so painfully obvious.

"So, what are you going to do?" Ron asked after a couple of minutes had passed.

"Do?"

"Yeah. You always do something," Ron said. "Eventually. You at least need to find out why the git didn't bother to wish you a happy birthday."

The tone of indignation in Ron's voice was nearly enough to make Harry smile.

"Ron, can we talk about something less stressful, like the fact that our kids are drunk or something?"

*~*~*

**17th May, 2021**

A paper carton from the restaurant lay tipped over on the dining table where Draco had tossed it when he pulled Harry up into a kiss. The spoonful or two of mousse left in the carton was beginning to melt onto the cloth, forgotten as they leaned against the table and the kiss went on and on.

Harry licked Draco's lips, savouring the last taste of raspberry. Draco pressed against him, hand sliding up his back to tangle in his hair. Harry let one hand fall to Draco's hip, feeling a deeper rush of anticipation as his hand moulded around the curve of Draco's body. Draco's hand tightened suddenly against the base of Harry's skull, pulling him in and he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Harry's pulse had been racing for so long now that he was beginning to feel dizzy with it.

Draco's chest rose and fell, the hollow at the base of his throat deepening with his breaths, his lips slightly parted. Their mouths slid together deliciously—warm, sugar-kissed lips. Draco's left hand clenched in Harry's hair and his right rubbed circles on his back. Draco leaned into him, connecting their bodies from knee to chest. They fit together and Harry yielded, letting himself be pushed.

"Mpf," Harry grunted. The sharp edge of the table was cutting painfully into him the more Draco pressed against him, distracting him from the maddening touches of Draco's tongue. "Table."

Draco kissed down Harry's neck, lingering at the spot just above his collar bone. "Can't have you uncomfortable," he murmured onto Harry's skin.

"Mmm, s'better," Harry gasped as Draco took a step back, cupping Harry's arse and pulling him with him.

They leaned against each other and Harry was sure he would crumple to the floor, a puddle of need and desire, if Draco moved away from him. He ran his hand over Draco's chest, the fine robes soft under his fingers, hiding what was surely softer skin beneath.

"Can I—" Harry began, dropping his hand to the belt that held Draco's robe secure. "I want, _ahhh_ ," he gasped as Draco nipped at his throat.

"You want?" Draco whispered, his breath hot on Harry's skin.

"Yeah, I do."

Harry twined his fingers in the knot of the belt and pulled, feeling Draco's lips curve into a smile against his neck. With Draco's robes loose, Harry could slide his hand down the warm, smooth skin of Draco's stomach. Draco moaned into the kiss, curling his tongue around and around Harry's, unhurried and sensuous. Harry teased his fingers along Draco's waistband, just dipping beneath to feel the even warmer skin there.

"Yours too." Draco's voice in Harry's ear sent shivers down his spine.

"Oh, yes," Harry moaned, looking down at Draco's hand, so pale against the deep blue of his robe, as Draco loosened Harry's belt. Harry worked his hand down Draco's abdomen, feeling soft skin over muscle, and downy hair that was just a shade darker than the silvery hair on his head.

"Do you want me to touch you?" he asked, staying his hand just above Draco's cock.

Draco's eyes widened and he moved his own hand, splaying his fingers low on Harry's abdomen.

"Do you want me to touch you?" Draco mimicked, smirking as Harry's hips rolled involuntarily into the pressure of his hand.

"Fuck, yes," Harry gasped. "Touch me."

He leaned forward at the same time as Draco and their foreheads pressed against each other. Draco reached further down and Harry felt strong fingers circle his cock and begin to stroke slowly, lightly. Too lightly, stopping short of the sensitive head, squeezing just enough to drive him mad.

Draco's breath was coming in short, sharp pants, and his gaze was locked on his hand on Harry's cock. He wore that ridiculous smirk that made Harry want to spend forever looking at him.

" _Please_ ," Harry moaned. He wrapped his fingers around Draco's cock and squeezed, moving his hand from the base to the tip. It was fantastically hard and perfect in his hand. Beads of liquid gathered at the tip and it gave Harry a knee-buckling rush of desire to think that watching his own hand on Harry's cock had driven Draco to this state. "Please, faster," Harry begged.

Draco moaned, matching Harry's pace with his hand. They stroked each other, faster and harder, and Harry began to thrust into Draco's hand. He shortened his strokes, over and over the head until Draco tipped his head back, exposing a column of tautly muscled throat. Harry pressed his lips to one straining tendon and kissed, open mouthed.

"Ah," Draco gasped, mouth open mutely.

"Come on me," Harry moaned.

Draco's thrusts stuttered and Harry felt him come, hot and wet over his hand, streaking his stomach and cock. Draco's hand never stopped stroking Harry, impossibly slick now, and the sensation of Draco's hand and Draco's come on his cock was sharp and intense.

"Fuck, _fuck_ , yes. I'm coming," Harry panted.

They leaned against each other in the middle of Harry's kitchen, catching their breath, hands still on each other's softening cocks.

"Well," Harry said. "It seems I've found the one time you don't run at the bloody mouth."

Draco laughed. It was clear and relaxed, a sound unlike any Harry had ever heard him make. Harry cupped Draco's chin and kissed his still-laughing mouth.

*~*~*

**July 31st, 2021**

"I only want you to be happy, mate," Ron said, frowning into his drink.

"I know you do," Harry said, patting his shoulder. "I know you do. I need some air, yeah? Be right back in." Harry began to walk away. He turned to look at his friend, who'd spent much of the party sitting with Harry—who'd been a miserable sod all night—instead of joining the others in card games and conversation. "And Ron? You say the right things."

Ron smiled and Harry felt his bad mood lift slightly. Some fresh air would do him good. And then he'd go back and try and be a bit less of a curmudgeon.

People were packed so close together now that Harry had to work his way cautiously through the pub, being subjected to a sloppy hug or drunken birthday greeting every few steps. He finally pushed open the back door and stepped into the alley. The scuttling of feet let him know he'd probably interrupted a rat at its dinner.

Harry leaned against the rough stone wall and let his head fall back. Even this centuries-old stone was warm. He looked up at the sky, searching for a star. One winked weakly at him through the muggy air. He closed his eyes and inhaled the unusually humid Highland night.

Footsteps echoed in the alley. He gripped his wand, waiting for them to pass. He cracked an eye and pointed his wand in the direction of the sound. A flash of the streetlamp reflected on pale silver hair, bright even in this dull evening.

"Pathetic way to spend your birthday, Potter," Draco said, voice serene and slow.

"I didn't think you'd come," Harry said, irritation and hurt warring with hope.

"Neither did I," Draco said, imperious as ever.

"So why are you here?" Harry demanded, frustration that Draco had actually caused him to wallow and pine at his own party flaring in his chest.

Draco rolled his eyes and squared his shoulders. "I thought I'd wish you a happy birthday, but if I'm in the way of whatever it is you're doing in this putrid alley by yourself, excuse me." The heels of Draco's boots clicked decisively as he started down the cobblestones.

"Fuck," muttered Harry. "Wait. Fuck, Draco, wait."

Draco stopped in his tracks, back straight and stiff, but didn't turn around.

"I don't want to do this," Harry said, suddenly exhausted.

"I didn't realize we were _doing_ anything." Draco still didn't turn around, his voice echoing around the narrow alley and back into the street he was facing.

"Draco," Harry said softly. "I don't want to fight with you. I don't even know why we're fighting and it feels as if I've fought with you my entire life."

"Amusing, because you have," Draco said, turning to face Harry, one hand on his hip.

"Well," Harry said, taking a step toward Draco. "I'm finished. I like it better when we're not fighting."

"Then you'll need to stop being so infuriating." Draco arched one eyebrow and tilted his chin.

It could have been meant to distance himself, it could have been a challenge, but Harry chose to see it as an invitation and he curled his fingers around the pointed chin and brushed his lips softly across Draco's.

"How's that?" he asked.

"Better," Draco said, pursing his lips. "Only just."

"Draco," Harry said, a spot of a whinge just creeping in. He was tired of all of this and he wanted back what they'd had since that first dinner on May 14th. "It's my birthday. You're meant to do nice things for me."

"Am I not allowing you an attempt at worming your way back into my good graces?"

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "Fuck. You don't half make a bloke work, do you?"

Draco leaned close and kissed Harry, lingering as he pulled back, smoothing a hand down Harry's arm. "You'll find I'm worth the effort."

"What happened? Why did you go off...this?" Harry asked, gesturing between them.

Draco's expression closed and Harry could feel the distance creep back.

"I was uncertain that you wanted to continue on with _this_ as we were," Draco said, copying Harry's gesture.

"What? Why?" Harry asked. He rubbed his hand through his hair and felt the frown crease his forehead. "I never said, I mean I'm sure I always—right, I, yes. I want to continue. Why would you think otherwise?"

"Potter," Draco said. His voice was steely as it was during meetings, but his eyes darted uncertainly from Harry to the dank cobblestones. "When you made it clear that you planned to spend your birthday with four dozen Weasleys and the extended Harry Potter fan club, I assumed that I should step back and let you do just that."

"Hold on," Harry said. "You thought that because I didn't make plans to spend my birthday with you that I didn't want to keep on with you?"

Draco coughed and straightened the belt on his robe. "Not necessarily, I was simply not certain that I was invited, or that perhaps it signalled that you preferred to maintain something, shall we say, more casual."

"Draco," Harry said, taking Draco's hand. "Ron and Hermione have planned something for my birthday every year since Ginny died. And since I started dating again, if I'm seeing someone, he is welcome to these functions as well. In fact, they sometimes take the kids for the night so I can have my place to myself if I want. I should have thought of it. Of course you'd think that you wouldn't be welcome here. I should have invited you. I just assumed you'd know." Harry paused and grabbed Draco's other hand where it was still fidgeting with his belt. "I assumed you knew how I felt."

A slight blush darkened Draco's cheeks. "And are Granger and Weasley taking the hellions tonight?"

"If I want."

"Do you?"

Harry tugged on Draco's hands, pulling him close. He kissed him hard, parting his lips and tasting Draco's mouth.

"All right, then. I'm glad that's sorted," Draco said, and Harry couldn't help but grin at the breathless voice. "Shall we rejoin your party and then go back to your house when you're finished here? I'd like to wish you many happy returns properly."

"Now," Harry said, head swimming at what he might be able to make of the 'many' in Draco's offer. "We're going now."

"You can't just leave your birthday party," Draco said. "Even you're not that boorish."

"Watch me."

"But think of all the Weasleys you'll disappoint."

"I'd have thought that would be a reason you'd encourage it."

"Excellent point," Draco said, smoothing his hand over Harry's arse. "Although, I can think of other reasons to encourage it."

"Yeah? Such as?"

Draco's arm tightened around Harry's waist, pulling him flush against Draco's long, lean body. He looked into Harry's eyes and then ducked his head to kiss behind his ear, nipping Harry's earlobe with his teeth.

"Come in with me?" Harry asked. He let himself melt against Draco and forced himself to say, "Come in and say hello to Ron and a few others. I want them to know you're here with me. I want you to know, too. Come in just for a few minutes and then we can go."

The pub was significantly less packed than it had been. Ron still sat at the bar, now chatting with Neville and Hannah. He saw Harry and Draco coming and Harry had a moment when he thought that Ron's eyebrows would leap off his face. He nodded and frowned when Harry explained that it had been a misunderstanding, and Harry felt an intense surge of affection for Ron as he watched him try and figure out whether to tell Draco off or thank him for Harry's improved mood.

Ron seemed to settle on another drink and saying, "On you get then. You've had a face like a funeral all night. I'll make your excuses if anyone asks. Hermione's already taken the kids to ours. _And_ she made George go with her to help sober them up."

"Thanks, mate," Harry said. "I really—"

"Oh, shut up and go have a happy birthday," Ron said.

Harry and Draco stepped out of the pub and Draco's arm came around Harry's waist. "May I?" he asked, softly kissing Harry's cheek. When Harry nodded, he immediately felt that sickening pull behind his navel.

The second that Harry's front room floor was solid beneath his feet, he pushed Draco against the nearest wall and pressed against him.

"Make no mistake, I want to spend my birthday with you," Harry said, running his hands over Draco's hips and up his sides. He kissed Draco's bottom lip, sucking it gently between his own.

"I'm beginning to believe you," Draco breathed. "Now then, as you have pointed out, it _is_ your birthday."

Harry's breath caught in his throat as Draco slithered down the wall, their bodies dragging together until he was on his knees in front of Harry. Draco looked up, a wicked gleam in his eye, and with a wave of his wand, Harry's robe cascaded from his shoulders, landing in a pool around his feet. Draco pushed up his vest and Harry felt warm lips on his stomach. Harry's fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, waves of desire and anticipation coursing through him, while Draco slowly licked and nipped, pushing Harry's pants lower with each kiss.

"Please," Harry gasped. He hooked his thumbs in his pants and yanked so that his aching cock finally rubbed over Draco's cheek, finally skin against skin. Draco turned his head, caressing Harry's cock, teasing, light rubs that almost tickled. "Fuck, Draco."

"Hmm?" Draco asked. "What Harry? What do you want for your birthday?"

Harry swallowed, his mouth dry. He wasn't very good at talking dirty, but while Draco was uncharacteristically silent during sex—except for gorgeous moans and spine-tingling groans—he loved for Harry to chat him up all through.

"I—I," Harry stuttered. "I want you to suck me and... _guh_ ," he groaned when Draco licked the length of his cock.

"And then?"

"And, until I'm going mad, and then I want to fuck you, if you, if that's what you want, too, I—" Harry had to place both hands on the wall in front of him, mouth open, gasping. Draco sucked the tip of his cock into his mouth and circled it with his tongue, slippery-warm. "Oh my."

Draco bobbed his head back and forth, sliding those gorgeous pink lips over Harry's cock, nearly letting it slip from his mouth each time. Harry felt his hips start to move on their own, the pleasure gathering at his centre, building. He tangled his fingers in the soft hair and held Draco's head still.

"Fuck, fuck," he moaned. "You have to stop now. I can't take it anymore."

Draco leaned back against the wall and licked his lips, a pleased smile brightening his eyes. "To bed then?"

"Yes, shit yes," Harry said. He reached down and Draco took his hand. Harry pulled him to standing. He wanted to push Draco against the wall and kiss him and rub against him until they were both coming, moaning each others' names.

"Uh-uh," Draco scolded, shaking his head and clearly reading Harry's mind. He started down the hall, pulling Harry behind him. "I want what you promised."

Harry nearly stumbled twice on the way into his bedroom and he did trip when Draco shucked his robe and it fell under Harry's feet. He tackled Draco, tumbling him onto the bed underneath him as soon as they were near enough not to hit the floor.

Sometimes it was almost too much. The smooth, fair skin that flushed pink under his tongue, the usually haughty lips silenced in a gasp, the way Draco's hips moved, sliding against Harry. The way Harry's heart felt like it might burst when Draco looked at him with open, burning eyes. It was still new, but becoming so comfortable. He wanted to make Draco shiver with pleasure, be utterly taken by him. Consume him.

Harry pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses down Draco's throat, lingering just there, that spot over the pulse that always made Draco whimper. He trailed his fingers across Draco's chest, chasing them with his lips, circling each nipple with his tongue until Draco writhed and gripped Harry's shoulders. The muscles in Draco's stomach quivered when Harry's teeth nipped lightly above his navel. Harry moved lower, groaned, and had to pause when his cock dragged along Draco's thigh.

"I'm going to fuck you, just like you want," Harry said, voice low and hoarse. "I'm going to fuck you, but first, I'm going to get you ready with my tongue."

"Mmmm," Draco moaned, bending his knees and shifting his hips. And when Harry reached for his wand to prepare Draco, he said, "But, I should do this for _you_. I keep reminding you it is _your_ birthday."

Harry laughed. Draco knew by now that he loved to do this. "I want to feel you open for me. I want that moment when you lose your cool and beg me to fuck you. _That_ is what I want for my birthday."

Harry nestled himself between Draco's legs and pressed a kiss to the tip of his cock. The heat and taste made his heart speed and he had to slide his lips over the head and suck. Draco's hand's cupped his head firmly and caressed his hair, gentle and desperate at the same time. He pulled his mouth up Draco's cock, releasing it with a soft, wet sound. His lips found the crease of Draco's thigh and Draco tilted his hips even more, lifting his heels off the bed. Chuckling puffs of breath onto Draco's skin, Harry kissed behind his balls. Draco was shifting and making sweet, desperate little sounds and Harry felt so filthy and sexy and he wanted to give everything to the man who could make him feel that way when he'd felt anything but for so much of the last ten years.

Harry tickled his hands over Draco's arse, massaging ever more firmly. Draco had the most fabulous arse, round and muscular, the perfect canvass for Harry to paint with his swirling tongue. He kissed Draco's entrance, softly at first, a hint and a tease. Draco lifted his feet completely off the bed, offering himself unabashedly to Harry. Harry swiped his tongue along Draco's cleft and pressed in.

"Oh, Harry," Draco choked out and Harry nearly came from the rare sound of Draco's voice.

He traced his tongue around the tight muscle, flicking the tip just inside. Draco gasped with each touch of Harry's tongue. He cupped Draco's arse and slid a finger next to his tongue, slowly slipping it inside, moving in and out, opening Draco more then he could with just his tongue.

"Mmm," Harry hummed against Draco's skin when he felt Draco's hips begin to push back against his finger and tongue, little, needy thrusts. He added a second finger, licking around it as he pushed inside.

"More," Draco groaned. "More, fuck. Now."

"Yes, yes," Harry moaned. It wasn't _quite_ begging to be fucked, but it was as close as he was likely to get and he wasn't in the mood to nitpick.

Draco spread on the bed, dishevelled and flushed, ready and waiting for him, was a better birthday present than anything he could imagine. Until Draco grabbed the lubricant from the bedside table and slapped it forcefully into Harry's hand. _That_ was close enough to begging to be fucked by Harry's estimation.

He kneeled above Draco, luxuriating in the way the light grey eyes raked up and down his body, before focussing on Harry's hand, as it smoothed lube up and down his straining cock.

"Ready?" Harry asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Potter. Now."

Harry wrapped his hands around Draco's calves and flipped his ankles onto his shoulders. He cradled Draco's lower back in one hand and curled the other around Draco's luscious arse.

Harry rolled his hips forward, pressing the tip of his cock against Draco's arse. He rolled them again, barely pressing inside. Draco tossed his head to the side, biting his lip and exhaling roughly. His face tensed and relaxed. His cheeks went from pink to red, and his lips opened sensuously as Harry entered him, sliding his cock into Draco's perfect, hot body.

"Yes," Draco breathed when Harry had pushed all the way in, his body flush against Draco's.

"Yeah," said Harry and he pulled back, the length of his cock sliding out and then slowly back in. He slid out again, and in just as slowly, but harder. Each time he moved as slowly as he could, studied every breath, every expression, every bead of sweat gathering on Draco's forehead.

"Fuck," Draco growled. He braced himself on his elbows, digging his heels into Harry's shoulders and slammed himself back against Harry, arching his back and writhing against him, taking control of the pace.

"Draco, oh, _Draco_." Draco's thighs were hot against his chest, the muscles in Draco's back rolled under Harry's hand, and Draco's arse clutched at his cock until Harry couldn't stand it, couldn't hold off another second, had no choice but to fuck Draco harder and faster and deeper and more, had to let himself come, pulsing heat deep inside Draco's body.

Draco moved hard against Harry, not letting up, not slowing down on Harry's sensitive cock, as the last waves of Harry's orgasm rolled through him. Draco's cock was full and hard and wanting between them. Harry grasped Draco and stroked his cock just how he knew Draco liked it.

"Ahh, ah, Ha—Harry," Draco panted. His hips finally stilled and his arse clenched on Harry's softening cock, sending a renewed spike of desire through Harry that intensified as he watched Draco's face relax into bliss and felt his cock throb with his orgasm.

Harry lowered Draco's legs and fell on top of him, touching him everywhere he could with his hands and his lips, finally kissing. All urgency gone, still basking in the throes of ecstasy, their mouths slid together, tongues curling lazily around. Fucking was fantastic, coming was bloody fabulous, but this was something rare.

Draco brushed Harry's hair off his forehead, leaning up to kiss the still-heated skin. "Are you sorry you missed the rest of your party?"

Harry gave a choked laugh. "The cake did look rather good," he said, tracing the shell of Draco's ear with his tongue.

"Perhaps we should order in some white chocolate mousse if you're wanting something sweet."

"Give me fifteen minutes," Harry said, dipping to kiss his collar bone. "I'll be ready for something else sweet."

Draco smiled, drowsy eyes half-lidded with desire, and pulled Harry into another long, tender kiss. It felt like the beginning of something, like a promise. It felt like the start of a new year and a new chapter of his life.

Forty-one was going to be a very good year.

"Happy Birthday," Draco murmured, his lips still touching Harry's.

"It is indeed."


End file.
